A day at the Virginia State Fair

A day at the Virginia State Fair

October 4, 2026

An account of the day mysteriously missing from my macro tracker...

aka a day at the Virginia State Fair! 

Matt is a self-professed Big State Fair Guy™️, so there was no way the Virginia State Fair was going to come and go without a visit. Yesterday, we braved the rain to see this year's crop of giant pumpkins, watch some pig racing, and—of course—eat our weight in fried things!

My personal goal was to eat as many pretzels and pickles as possible, and I started off strong with a garlic parmesan pretzel dipped in melted white cheddar. I give this pretzel a 7/10 — it was very yummy, but I wish it was crisper. To be fair! The rain was unrelenting and could've been the reason for the pretzel becoming overly soft. 

At the same stand, Matt got a jalapeño cheddar bratwurst inside a pretzel on a stick. They give it a 7/10—"I liked that it had cheese inside, and the pretzel was good, and it was on a stick! All fair food should be on a stick." When I asked him why only 7/10, they said, "well, it wasn't life-changing." Ok critique. 

We visited all of the blue ribbon winners inside the arts & crafts pavilion, admiring quilts, knitting projects, photographs, embroideries, tapestries, pies, cakes, cookies, and biscuits. There were plenty of vendor stalls, too, but I was bummed that most of them were drop shippers selling random crap and/or AI slop. I was hoping for some local homemade jams, artisanal jewelry, or clothing you can't find in a Talbots catalog from 2006. Ah, well. Matt did find a Lego set he's wanted for a long time!

I'd had the pretzel, now it was time for the pickle! We picked up a tray of fried pickles and another plate of fried cheese curds. I give the pickles 6/10. They were yummy! But they had a...lasting aftertaste, and I wish the breading was more seasoned. The cheese curds were a solid 7/10—some good cheese pulls, but the batter was giving corndog. (TBH, the Cookout curds are my standard.) I also think there were too many of both. 

Matt gives both of them a 5/10. Turns out, he's a notoriously harsh grader.

Then, it was time for my favorite fair event—pig racing! I had no idea this was a grand tradition until we encountered it at the Chesterfield County Fair a few months ago when I became an ardent fan. I don't even know why I find it so enchanting, but cheering for three heats of trotting pigs is one of the best ways I've found to perk up a slow day.

There was some last minute excitement in heat 3, when the big ol' pot bellies go for their "run". Pig #4, apparently, doesn't like rain and thus hit the gas immediately. It was SO CLEAR he was going to win....until literally SIX INCHES from the finish line, he decided he was done and literally sat down. You would've thought we were witnessing a crash in the final lap at Indianapolis, it was that exciting. (Okay, maybe that was just me.)

(Pig #3 won, for the record.) 

It's corn! Someone walked by me absolutely chowing down on a monster ear of corn and it activated me as if I were a truffle hunting pig that caught whiff of a fresh bianchetto. I decided to go super simple with the toppings to allow the corn to shine—only butter, salt, and happiness. 10/10. I could've eaten three of these probably, if I wasn't saving room for more fried things.

From the corn to the big pumpkins, baby! This year, the blue ribbon ginormo pumpkin was only (only!) 490 pounds. For context: the largest pumpkin last year was 1,900 pounds. Not sure what happened this year to curtail the growing process, but there's something rather giddying about encountering such large vegetables. It reminded me of being a kid and pretending I was a giant (or the elusive goddess of discord, Eris, from Sinbad, definitely the cause of some childhood awakenings...I digress) every time I ate broccoli (little trees). 

Next to the giant vegetables and master gardeners handing out seed packets, we found the baby animals! I was entirely too busy awwing to take any pictures of the ducklings, twelve-hour-old chicks, and bunnies, but damn if I didn't almost bring home 3 baby ducks for $30. 

Annnnnd, we had to capitalize on the sweetness of the baby animals with our first sweet treat of the day! 

Word to the wise: if you ever find yourself a little cold and stuck in the rain all day, try housing a large fried apple dumpling covered in ice cream and cinnamon & caramel sauce. Speaking from experience, there is nothing that will make you feel more alive. This was an 8.5/10 — dare I say the caramel sauce was too....caramel-y? (Incidentally, my diamonds are too shiny and my rolls are too buttery.) Even Matt gives this one an 8/10! "I could eat seven of these." 

After my soul was revived by the apple dumpling, Matt and I joined the herd of families being shepherded under the big top for the fair's pirate-themed family circus show. Top hits:

• Husband & wife (or brother & sister?) acrobats clambered onto a 5' round banquet table for an insane rollerskating act where she was the base for him to be the death-defying flyer. At one point, she held him by his ankles and spun him around like the Barbie Fairy Princess doll I used to have. In another part of the act, they looped a black scarf around both of their necks and he twirled in the air FROM JUST HIS NECK as she spun even faster than before. How do you even work through figuring out the physics behind the mechanics of a trick like that?! 
• The grandfather/great-uncle clown of the circus clambered up the lighting rig and rode a unicycle across the tightrope line blindfolded. Very unexpected from the man who thus far had made exclusively fart jokes.
• The ringmaster (obviously the main dad of the group) had one of his young daughters dressed like a vintage clown and pretended to be a doll. As in, he literally unfolded her from the treasure chest and dragged her around stage, threw her over his shoulder, and contorted her around like a little puppet. It was oddly transfixing! 

After the circus, we made our way across the fair to check out the blacksmithing competition and our path took us directly past the chocolate-dipped cheesecake on a stick. What were we going to do, not stop and get one? I was very pleasantly surprised by this! The cheesecake was genuinely yummy, and the chocolate dip didn't taste artificial. I give this a 8/10, Matt gives it a 7.

We took a quick walk through the rodeo barns to meet some very well-dressed horses and then, as we warmed ourselves up by the ten blazing forges of the blacksmithing competition, Matt and I agreed we were nearly ready to boogie. (I know, I know, kinda lame of us to dip after only 6 hours in the pissing rain!) Of course, we couldn't leave until each finding our one remaining must-eat food item. 

For Matt, that was a turkey leg. Classic! They give this a 6/10. "Good flavor, the inside was juicy, which was better because turkey legs are usually giant and tough." (And...still just a 6? I do not understand his rating system.)

For me, this was a fried Twinkie. What better example of classic Americana fair food? And I've never had one before! I was genuinely nervous before biting into it, and I'm glad we saved it for last. It was so last, in fact, that we got it as we walked to the car and devoured it only after we'd shed our sopping wet jackets, hats, hoodies, and shoes, so I don't have a picture of it. But I honestly give it a 10/10. It was so good?? Twinkies must've been meant to be eaten that way. (I don't think I've ever had a non-fried Twinkie before, for the record) Matt gives the Twinkie an 8/10, and I'm done asking for justifications. 

Despite the rain, this day was a triumph! I've never been to a state fair before, but I'm already plotting how I could knit something to enter into next year's blue ribbon competition. That gives me nearly 12 whole months to figure out how to knit a pair of socks that actually look like a pair of socks! 

All the books I read in the first half of 2026

All the books I read in the first half of 2026

August 20, 2026

I confess, I haven't been reading as much as I did last year. (I blame the all-consuming buzz of a new relationship. And moving. And giant retrogrades that have truly knocked me on my ass.) It doesn't help, too, that the first handful of reads of the year weren't really my favorites...but, let's get into it!

A love letter to reading

Everyday I Read by Hwang Bo-Reum, translated by Shanna Tan

This quick, bright collection of 53 vignettes investigates reading. How we do it, why, where, when, etc. Hwang has such a refreshing breadth of literary references at her disposal and she uses them liberally here—practically every two chapters, I was writing down the name of an author or a work I'd never encountered before! 

I picked this book up primarily because I wanted to get to know the woman behind Welcome to the Hyunam-Dong Bookshop, which was so clearly written by a bibliophile. Her earnest voice shines through all of her writing—fiction and non—and I am solidly a fan.

A (second) trip to the underworld

Hell Bent by Leigh Bardugo

In this sequel to Ninth House, we actually follow Alex to Hell in her increasingly desperate attempts to rescue Darlington. I read this whole thing in 24 hours, absolutely ravenous for the story after how much I loved the first one! I have no idea what I'm going to do until the third one comes out in the fall. 

This book doesn't pack as powerful a punch as the original—true of most sequels—but Leigh's signature class commentary and tremendous character growth are all present here, too! I found Alex's core wound (about Hellie) extremely repetitive and a tad heavy-handed. Of course, this could be due to the truncated timeline I read this in...Of course, the evil character reveals were apparent to me before they happened, but like in Book I. Didn't hinder my enjoyment, though! 

A journey to the afterlife (sort of) 

Trip by Amie Barrodale

Sandra is a working mom with a teenage son, Trip, who has autism, problems with authority, and a penchant for stargazing. Sandra decides to put Trip in an assisted living/special needs camp while she goes on a 7-week work trip to Nepal for a conference about death. Unfortunately, on week #1 of her trip, Sandra dies, around the same time that Trip escapes camp and is picked up by a weirdo driving directly into a hurricane. The rest of the story includes Trip and Weirdo stranding themselves on a stolen boat in the middle of the Atlantic and Sandra possessing a fellow conference attendee (landing him in Swedish jail, in the process) in her attempt to save her son.

I picked this up because the flap copy promised Amie's attempt to materialize Buddhist philosophy and the Tibetan Book of the Dead. There were certainly several attempts made to that end, but the overall effect was SO annoying, it was palpable. (I felt like Madeline Kahn in Clue, IYKYK.) The disjointed nature of the story and its utter absurdity are attempts to serve a Larger Purpose, I know, but.....damn! My kingdom for a sequitur. 

The Kirkus review of this novel pointed out, "There are few topics more emotionally rousing than the endurance of love beyond the grave, which makes the novel's flatness here...in her attempt to render complex Buddhist abstract philosophies, I fear Amie sapped her characters of agency.

Getting stuck in a time loop that's also a mental hospital

The Once and Future Me by Melissa Pace

This is a really cool premise for a book! Our protagonist wakes up on a bus in 1953 heading to a mental hospital with no memory and a strong conviction that she doesn't belong here. Dorothy (if that's even her name) keeps having flashes to the future (or does she?) where she learns that she's on a secret mission to travel back in time to prevent the outbreak of a major virus. 

The notion is that we are meant to be just as confused as Dorothy about her perspective and the "truth." Really, though, it's clear which truth Melissa wants us to root for. The scenes inside the mental institution are the most effective, everything else really pales in comparison. Melissa uses overly explanatory dialogue to move the plot forward often, which made me feel like I was watching a Netflix show talking down to me. There's also an incredibly underbaked relationship that becomes highly consequential at the end? Sadly cooler in premise than in delivery. 

Moving in sync with your cycle 

In the Flo by Alisa Vitti

In all honesty, I skimmed this. I was looking for some very specific guidance about training and eating in accordance with my cycle and I didn't feel the need to read the anecdotes. I liked that Alisa incorporated learnings from traditional Chinese medicine. I did not love that big chunks of every section were plugs for her company, but that's to be expected. I'll never know what critical information was hidden behind a paywall, considering I refuse to participate in Big Tech's monitoring of my body as much as I can.

Getting stuck in a liminal space that's also a mental hospital

The Dream Hotel by Laila Lalami

This is what I'm talking about when I say I've been reading some stinkers lately. I had such high hopes for this one! It's kind of a mix of the premises of The Once and Future Me and Trip, both of which I had very mixed feelings about. And somehow....

I'll be honest, I DNF'd this one. I know, I know! I NEVER do that. But....damn! This story is about women who are imprisoned for "dangerous dreams" that the technostate can see (bc ofc) that "makes them dangerous" to the men in their lives. Sounds like my kinda sh*t, right?! 

Sadly....it was a slog, TBH. I was not invested in any of the main characters enough and I kept getting narratively confused. I also found Laila's guiding, authorial hand to be far too obvious for my taste. Less than a full third of the way through the book, I flipped to the final few pages (I knoW! I'm committing countless reader sins) and let's just say....I'm incredibly grateful I didn't stick it out.

A guide to establishing better habits

Better Than Before: Mastering the Habits of Our Everyday Lives by Gretchen Rubin

The tidbit that remained with me the most after finishing this book was the fact that Gretchen Rubin—a self-professed Upholder—doesn't eat fruit. The entirety of her strategies are lost to me, only a few months after finishing it.

A dysfunctional family narrative for the ages

Lost Lambs by Madeline Cash

One of my favorite reads of the whole year, I can already tell. Holy shit, this book is amazing. Recommended by my friend, Caroline, who has yet to steer me wrong with a book rec, for the record.

The Flynn family is f*cked up. Mom & Dad just opened up their marriage, only because Mom wanted to, though, and she tries to hook up with the hot neighbor Dad, which goes very quickly south in an unexpectedly hilarious way. Dad starts sleeping in the family minivan in a sort-of protest, before he finds himself unexpectedly attracted to a "church-y" woman at the Lost Lambs support group his therapist makes him attend. 

Their daughters are not faring much better. The eldest Flynn daughter (a senior in high school) is dating a 20-something colloquially known as "War Crimes Wes," who works private security for the elusively sinister local billionaire. The middle Flynn girl is being radicalized by her ISIS e-boyfriend online, and the youngest of the group is far too smart for her own good and sent to a camp for special children in the woods as a kind of last resort for the sanity of the nuns at her school. 

This novel has the best ending I've come across for a dysfunctional family novel thus far (and my affinity for the genre is....well documented, to say the least.) One of my friends described this as "Little Women for the 21st century," which feels apt. 

Getting stuck in Germany when it's also a time loop

On the Calculation of Volume (III) by Solvej Balle, translated by Barbara J. Haveland

I accidentally picked up the third volume in a seven-title series, but boy did it capture me anyway! Protagonist Tara is stuck in the 18th of November. And over the course of the (apparently) seven books of this series, she confronts the existential issues spurred by this time loop in a very Scandinavian way. Namely, she doesn't particularly do anything. 

By that I mean, this is not a thriller. Tara is not starring in an action movie or trying to crack open the mystery of this time loop to save the world. Instead, Tara is adapting to live, more or less, "normally" in these incredibly NOT normal circumstances. Solvej manages to create something wholly unique here, IMO. As Tara goes along, she notices that the natural world is also, like her, unstuck from the loop, so though the same people go to the same grocery stores to purchase the same things every single November 18th, the food is slowly diminishing. The rules of this loop are still opaque, to us and to Tara, and the pattern-recognition part of my brain was very soothed by Solvej's writing style. Highly recommend. 

Dishing up murder, rice, and friendship

Butter by Asako Yuzuki, narrated by Hanako Footman

Turns out, my butter fanaticism could be taken up a notch. Who knew? Loosely based on a real crime (I think), Butter tells the story of Rika, a mousy reporter at a local magazine who strikes up an unlikely relationship with Manako Kajii, a famous woman in prison for (allegedly) causing the deaths of several of her older, rich boyfriends. Kajii is famously reclusive and doesn't tend to talk to reporters, but Rika catches her attention by asking about—what turns out to be—Kajii's one true passion: food.

This book is also the ideal audiobook experience, IMO. Not a widely achievable standard (hi, Tom Lake.) Also, if you've never eaten fresh, steaming rice with a big dollop of cold, good quality butter, stop reading this and go make it. Seriously. 

Coming back to life and getting stuck inside a woolly mammoth

The Tusks of Extinction by Ray Nayler

A lightning-fast read with an interesting premise and questionable execution. Dr. Damira is a passionate expert who risks—and, ultimately, loses—her life defending the last of the wild elephants from violent poachers. Then, her consciousness—it would be too far, I think, to say her soul—is reanimated, many years later, as a digital file uploaded into the mind of a recreated woolly mammoth. The scientist in charge of the mammoths want her to teach the herd how to exist in the wild, a feat never before accomplished for animals born & bred in captivity. It isn't long before Damira, as the mammoth, discovers she's been tricked—and the stakes couldn't be higher.

Interesting, right? I wanted more time to luxuriate in each of the moments of Damira's life. Instead, this book reads like a Netflix limited-series, where details that could benefit from glorious time to develop are rushed and overly-explained, as if fearful of losing the reader's attention. I can't remember off the top of my head who said or wrote it, but the adage "challenge and complexity are an author's sign of respect for the reader" comes to mind here. 

A therapist's peek behind the curtain

Maybe You Should Talk to Someone by Lori Gottlieb

I find therapist's memoirs fascinating, perhaps because I can relate to how they tend to interact with the people around them. I grew up an only child and—for the first 13 years anyway—an only grandchild. A tremendous amount of my time was spent buried in books. And my reading abilities soared early, which meant I was reading more mature books at an earlier age than my peers.

I think that's why my mind is so adept at emotional pattern recognition. I can often guess the plot of movies, TV shows, and unimaginative books long before the reveal is meant to be apparent to the audience. In real life, I find my mental schemas start working without waiting for my cue, connecting invisible dots and providing context I don't quite have the evidence to support, because being a good reader offered me a blueprint to navigate what we'd consider the basic human motivations, emotions, and reactions. To this day, I still feel oddly stupefied when I encounter someone who says or does something completely out of the left field; tolerating—even seeking and celebrating!—surprise is a very recent personal development.

Anyway, this book was lovely. Lori certainly knows how to grab and hold your attention, and her stories weave multiple narratives together, a narrative structure I tend to enjoy. The pacing felt tight, and I appreciated that she didn't shy away from laying her own story bare on the page. 

Wandering through the labyrinth

Piranesi by Susanna Clark, narrated by Chiwetel Ejiofor

Whoa...

This book achieved indescribable levels of wonderful, surprising and wholly unique in all the best ways. I almost don't want to describe it at all—I could never adequately capture Susanna's pure gift for language, nor the musical lilt of Chiwetel's narration! Suffice to say: Piranesi, the title character, lives in a house that is the entire world. I don't mean this in the agoraphobic way; The House is a Narnian fantasy world, where the lower floors are awash in living ocean and the upper floors alive with clouds and birds. Piranesi keeps meticulous records, theming the years with titles such as "The Year the Albatross Came to the Northwestern Halls." Please, read and/or listen to this one.

And indeed, Tessa, upon my recommendation, enjoyed this book as much as I did, and surprised me with the sweetest housewarming present—a hand-stitched quote from Piranesi to bless the walls of my own comforting labyrinth! 

Note from Kate: Hi! If you buy something through a link on my page, I may earn an affiliate commission. I recommend only products I genuinely like & recommend, and my recommendation is not for sale. Thank you! 

A Valentine's Day Getaway (6 months later)

A Valentine's Day Getaway (6 months later)

August 18, 2026

We're ignoring the fact that this happened six months and four days ago, okay?

I don't remember ever caring all that much about traditional pageantry of Valentine's Day. The elementary school era cards are super cute, candy is a great gift any day of the year, and the color scheme is fab, though hardly relegated to that time of year (in my wardrobe, anyway.) I'm not a Valentine's Day hater, by any means! It just was never the most important or meaningful day of the year for me, the way birthdays and anniversaries are. (And, TBH, a lot of the Valentine's Day hoopla has always seemed extremely Straight, which has never been appealing to me.) 

And yet! Valentine's Day 2026 was THE quintessential, romcom-esque, V-Day getaway. Even I must admit, Nora Ephron kinda has a point about how f*cking cute a Valentine's Day can be.

New Person (M) and I decided to spend the weekend in Staunton, Virginia–an adorable, antiques-filled town in the Shenandoah Valley. I wasn't planning to buy a new outfit for the occasion...but I couldn't stop ogling this rose dress from Farm Rio. Tiers of fluttery layers like this aren't usually my thing, but this one was far too pretty to pass up. 

We stayed at the Blue Ridge Abbey, the cutest bed & breakfast, in Buena Vista—an even tinier town than Staunton. The whole town was very sleepy that weekend, and M & I were the only guests at the Abbey. A marvelous excuse to explore the halls with complete abandon! 

Would you forgive me if I said this was the only photo I have of our gorgeous room from that weekend? M asked me to be their Valentine via Taco Bell, so it seemed only right that it was our snack on the drive up. 

A quick moment to give M their flowers (as it were). With all the appropriate pageantry of a new couple celebrating their first Valentine's Day, I spent several January weekends making M a Valentine's-themed advent calendar. It was an intense craft, okay—I was picking red glitter out of my carpet for weeks! I was convinced I was going to win sappiest (and therefore, best) gift.

Apparently, M was hell-bent on outdoing me. Not only did they show up at my door the morning before we left for our weekend away with a dozen roses, a huge box of chocolate, and a teddy bear-shaped balloon, I looked up from my perch in their passenger seat on Sunday night to catch them emerging from the Buena Vista Food Lion with a bottle of wine (the objective) and ANOTHER bouquet of roses and EVEN MORE chocolate. When I asked, gobsmacked, what they were doing, they just shrugged. "I didn't get you flowers or chocolate here." That night was really one of those romcom, pinch-me moments—up to my earlobes in bubbles, soaking in our room's Cadillac-sized bathtub, eating chocolate truffles, and drinking cheap wine. Literally what could be better? 

I digress. We arrived in town on Saturday, actual-factual Valentine's Day, and only had a few hours to relax before we needed to get dressed and out the door for our much-anticipated reservation at Zynodoa. 

No hint of hyperbole: we weren't even done with our appetizers yet when I put this meal on my "Best Meals of 2026" list. Seriously, this dinner was six months ago and my mouth is watering just thinking about it. 

We started with a delightful glass of champagne—which turned out to be a long-distance gift from an acquaintance of M who heard we were having Valentine's Day dinner here and called the restaurant to buy us a drink! Isn't that the chicest and sweetest thing ever?! Definitely tucking that idea into my back pocket. Then, we absolutely devoured a bruléed cornbread that made me wish I wasn't such a careful flosser, if only to retain one measly little kernel of its greatness in a molar for later. Alas! 

The rest of the meal featured trout, scallops (this has really been the Year of Scallops for me, personally....more on that later), M had steak, and we shared a dessert that has escaped our memory in every detail except for the exquisite banana flavor—a recommendation of the lovely couple in their 40s sitting next to us.

We were lucky enough to sit at a table sandwiched between two other couples enjoying a Valentine's dinner, and the ambiance of Zynodoa fostered plenty of cutie little conversations. The couple sitting to our right used to live in Richmond, and their glowing recommendation of Edo's Squid finally motivated me to get off my ass and try it. (Of course, it's now become my favorite restaurant in Richmond, and I'm angry that I wasted 4 entire years of prime real estate! (My apartment was 4 blocks from Edo's. Now that I've moved, it's a drive. (Oh, also, I moved! More on that later, too. (Is this too many simultaneous parentheticals?))))

The next day, we had homemade waffles in bed at the Abbey and, when we finally did get up, spent the day wandering through gorgeous little shops and antique stores. One of our favorite stops was Elli Bubble, the cutest little love-filled bubble tea shop, where you could make & send Valentine's cards! I sent one to Jolie, my almost-birthday twin.

That evening, we took a snowy ride along the Virginia Scenic Railway, chugging along on a vintage train car through the Blue Ridge mountains to take in the sights, learn about the fascinating history of the area, and eat a delicious dinner featuring locally sourced ingredients.

Before heading home on Monday, M and I made a little pilgrimage to nearby Natural Bridge State Park. I'd never been before—a fact that blew M's mind—and I was promptly awed by the breathtaking, pristine landscape lightly dotted with snow and fresh ice. 

I love that they have rows of benches for visitors to sit and marvel at the bridge in a pattern vaguely reminiscent of a church nave. I think more natural spaces should be treated like the wonderful, sacred spectacles that they are with unobtrusive vantage and reflection points.

On our way back to Richmond, M and I stopped in Harrisonburg for a very silly and important lunch at Chili's with Evan & Jolie. All-in-all, a weekend I'll be remembering for a long, long time. 

Top photo credit @le_supper.club

A Week in the Life: April 2026

A Week in the Life: April 2026

June 6, 2026

This year has absolutely flown by. I mean, how is it already June?! Though it feels like every week has its own flavor of hectic lately, there are some weeks even more packed than others. This one random week in April turned out to be one of those. 

Sunday, April 19

For the past several years, I have been suffering the effects of some kind of witch's curse. It's a very specific type of spell that, luckily, only impacts me in one very niche area: Lake Street Dive concerts. Namely my inability to attend a Lake Street Dive concert. It's not that I can't get tickets! Oh no, I'm allowed to purchase as many tickets as I want. I am cursed to never, ever use them, however. (This has happened three separate times over the past six years, okay...I'm not jumping to conclusions!) 

Well, currently knocking on wood as I announce this, but I think it's safe to say the curse has finally lifted. That's right, on Sunday, April 19, I was finally able to see Lake Street Dive at their concert in Charlottesville. I went with my friends Molly and Evan, and it was (almost) delightful! We sat outside enjoying the balmy spring weather at a pretty venue (positive!) that was FAR too small for the crowd LSD attracts (negative). Being jostled in a crowd isn't that unexpected when attending a concert, especially an outdoor one, but apparently our particular spot on the grass was a well-known thoroughfare to everyone but us. (People stomped on our blankets all night as they made bathroom and beer runs, oblivious to the actual path to our immediate left.) Ah, well. Humanity!  

Monday, April 20

M and I were invited to present at a local elementary school's Career Day on Monday! Well, we were last minute fill-ins after the people the school actually wanted cancelled or couldn't show. It's alright, though! We can't all be One Direction, and I was glad to be 5sos* for the day to spend some time with our teacher friends and their hyper kiddos. Well, turns out they didn't even want the backups! So, Monday was a pretty normal day that ended early with a slice of Shyndigz' Spotted Cow in the bathtub (IYKYK).

*This joke would've started wars on Tumblr back in the day, btw. I can speak with a sense of authority on the subject bc of my moderately successful midsized fanfic blogging experience during the peak 1D Tumblr era. Harry Hospital One-Shot, anyone? 

Tuesday, April 21

On Tuesday, I woke up at 4 a.m. so I could make it to Old Rag for a morning hike with Michael. I wrote all about it already, but TLDR: "God, this hike was hard."

After the hike (aka when my body started shutting down), I had yet another outing. On the same day. On a SCHOOL NIGHT! Little pre-narcolepsy-diagnosis Kate would be so in awe of me right now. Molly, Evan, and I continued our mini streak of concert-going with the St. Paul and the Broken Bones show at the Lewis Ginter Botanical Gardens.

I discovered St. Paul  & co. two years ago during a random Wednesday morning NPR radio interview featuring clips from their album Angels in Science Fiction. It has since become one of my favorite albums of all time and it wouldn't be hyperbolic to say their song, "Fall Moon," tangibly improved my life when it debuted last fall, stuck as I was in a (minor) pit of despair. 

The show was a riot! Brother Wallace opened and did his best with the most seated crowd I've ever encountered at a concert. (Thankfully, the reluctant bunch sitting on their derrieres in the VIP section did, in fact, stand when St. Paul & co. took the stage.) Y'all, I'm such a sucker for a band with a brass section. My poor legs were wobblier than a two-legged stool, but I was grooving. 

At one point, lead singer Saint Paul donned a splendiferously sequined muumuu and waded through the crowd. (I was entirely unprepared for the utter magic of his vocals, btw. I'm a pretty large fan, I'd say, and they still surprised me!) He eventually climbed a ladder—whose origin was no mystery as the lucky roadie who bore it followed Paul from the stage, the bright yellow apparatus thrust over his head like a Home Depot-branded scepter—and Paul sparkled brilliantly in the night sky at the back of the crowd like a great homing beacon beckoning us all to the exits. (It was the final performance of the night.)

I don't remember getting home or falling asleep, although I know I did because...

Wednesday, April 22

"Okay, so you're probably going, "Is this like a Noxzema commercial or what?" 

On Wednesday, I had to be up and out before 6am because I was catching the Amtrak to spend a day tagging along on a school trip through Arlington National Cemetery and Mount Vernon!

If you weren't aware already, allow me to assure you: Arlington National Cemetery is f*cking big and there are approximately 1,000 stairs and even more hills, so it's definitely not smart to, I don't know, HIKE a MOUNTAIN the day before you need to keep up with a caffeinated tour guide leading a group of 40 teenagers around the suburbs of Washington D.C. 

Okay, hissy fit over. Needless to say, my body was just an eensie weensie bit sore this day. It's probably much better for my recovery that I had such a packed calendar, though, because I fear the tense muscles would've saturated in their lactic acid and hurt much, much worse if I'd spent Wednesday in bed recovering the way I normally would. 

Hair was hair-ing that day, for sure

Thursday, April 23

After sleeping for at least 11 hours Wednesday night, I was grateful to have a normal Thursday with minimal plans. It was Richmond Restaurant Week, so Mom and I picked Echelon Wine Bar to try. It's a cute, little farm-to-table place downtown that advertised a delicious-sounding grilled broccoli di ciccio appetizer. Yummy! Sedate vibes, though it was a Thursday night, to be fair. 

Friday, April 24

The sedate vibes didn't last very long, thank god. Tessa arrived from Williamsburg after work on Friday and we scooted our way over to Dreamhaus for a show that our friend Corrine sold to me as "feminist gore shadow puppetry." Quickest RSVP of my life, obviously.

This was our first time at Dreamhaus, which is a really cute venue! (I heard a rumor they were on the brink of closure, so I'm glad they're sticking around. The Dreamhaus vibe is vaguely Parisian noir cabaret. That is to say: fun, unique, and very red.) The show was actually a double feature, so once the three of us caught up to the fact that the first act was distinctly not the feminist gore shadow puppets, we were much more on board.

I've been experiencing a bit of a personal puppetry Renaissance lately (a Puppaissance, if you will), and it's really unlocked some fresh creative energy! I have Corrine to thank for that—they brought me to my first ever puppetry slam in early fall and I've been hooked since. (Though, I do owe a special shoutout to my college friend, Miranda, who honored me with the invitation to be her sole guest at the final showcase of her puppetry class senior year.)

There's something ineffably fascinating to me about puppetry's ability to be both blithe and poignant, incredibly simple yet highly evocative, and to oscillate with ease between the extremes. Last week (we're rolling with the blatant anachronism), M and I attended a sound show with my friend Liv. The first act was decidedly postmodern (or metamodern, depending on your particular definition...really picking my battles here) and one of the elements that has stuck with me the most was the band's ability to evoke tangible sensations, thoughts, or emotions through discordant, seemingly nonsensical sounds. Puppetry is (often) a more literal and digestible version of that.

Saturday, April 25

This is one of my favorite pictures of Corrine and I, of late, settling in for a watch party of The National Theatre's production of The Importance of Being Earnest 

On Saturday, Tessa and I bopped around some of my favorite antiquing spots in the city. Namely, Class and Trash, Vintage Glass and Pottery in Lakeside, and—a new discovery that has quickly become a standout favorite—Paul's Place. The perfect ending for what turned out to be a Paul-heavy week.

That afternoon, in the pleasantly drizzling rain and before a small crowd of loved ones, two of our friends participated in the time-honored ritual of high camp that is a fake gay wedding. This one was even turned up a notch, though, in that it was a faux gay vow renewal after the initially fake gay wedding that took place 2 years ago. 

I adore my friends for many reasons, paramount among them for prolonging the fecklessly abandoned art of play well into our young adulthood. This event was so much more than mere camp, though that would be reason enough for a festive gathering. The two "spouses" are real-life best friends and the vows they wrote and read to each other about their friendship were deeply moving and, TBH, much more feeling than some of the vows I've heard at 'actual' weddings. 

C & Z, it was an honor to be invited to celebrate your friendship. May we all take the time to reflect on the vows we owe our most treasured loved ones outside the romantic sphere, and may we continue to queer the hierarchy of value that frames marriage as the greatest endeavor and incontrovertible proof of a successful life.